


Open Secret

by cave_leporem



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Other relationships mentioned - Freeform, motorskink fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cave_leporem/pseuds/cave_leporem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Motorskink prompt: Can I have Marc Marquez stumbling across two other riders kissing/fucking and being completely mortified because it's basically the same as seeing his parents having sex or something. Would prefer Jorge/Cal or Dani/Valentino. Bonus points if the two riders sit Marc down and attempt to have a very serious, but incredibly awkward, conversation with him afterwards about what he's seen and how he mustn't tell anyone. Bonus, bonus points if Marc is way more mature about the whole situation than they thought he'd be (after he's got somewhat over the initial horror, that is) and even starts to look out for them because he's an adorable little so-and-so.</p>
<p>'It’s like watching his older brother being fucked by his childhood hero, and Marc realises then and there that he may very well be scarred for life.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Another old motorskink fill. There's still a few more I need to locate :D
> 
> Set during the 2013 season. 
> 
> This is a work of fiction. No offence is meant to the people involved.
> 
> Enjoi.

Marc hears raised voices and follows them, curious like the young man he is. From the amount of swearing (mixed Italian and Spanish, but Marc speaks both so he understands everything, and is impressed despite himself) he assumes the speakers are arguing. They are rather loud, however, so he takes it upon himself to ask them to desist or all else failing, move to a more deserted area of the paddock to have it out in privacy.

First mistake.

Marc rounds the corner and stops short, because he cannot comprehend what he is seeing. He blinks, looks away, and checks. When the two are still there, still doing... that, he blushes profusely.

There are no words for how it feels to watch Dani Pedrosa being fucked up against the brick wall of the outer paddock. There are less than none to describe the acute embarrassment when he realises it is Valentino Rossi reducing his teammate to the wanton, foul-mouthed man he heard from three motorhomes away.

It’s like watching his older brother being fucked by his childhood hero, and Marc realises then and there that he may very well be scarred for life.

He is unspeakably grateful for being devoid of words, otherwise he might have done something stupid like try to interrupt them. As it is, he is petrified by mortification and the fear that if he moves the slightest muscle, even to back away, they will see him. And then Dani will kill him, and Honda will kill Dani, and Vale will kill Honda in vengeance for his murdered lover _and he needs to shut his mind up now._

He stands frozen in shock, too embarrassed to shut his eyes, even.

Second mistake.

Dani’s head is thrown back, eyes closed in ecstasy and Vale’s is tucked into the crook of that exposed neck, nipping and kissing intermittently. This does not mean that at some point, his teammate won’t muster the strength to crane his neck forwards and tug Vale into a kiss. This does not mean that Marc won’t be forced to watch the frantic fucking become something more measured, more _treasured_ between them as mouths meet and tongues _(he can see it all from here and he can’t look away and this is worse than when Alex, all of eight years old, asked him what sex was and oh god, why isn’t he looking away?!)_ come out to play, Valentino still steadily thrusting into his smaller lover.

This does not mean that Dani won’t pull back slightly, eyes open, and see Marc standing there over Valentino’s shoulder.

And this does not mean that Marc escapes being completely _(metaphorically, and he needs to shut his mind up right now)_ and utterly fucked.

-*-

Dani arches up into Vale’s thrusts, offering his neck to the Italian to suckle on. The new angle gives his lover the exactly right position; he isn’t going to last much longer so he pulls Valentino into a kiss... Valentino is only too happy to reciprocate, but the bastard slows down and leaves Dani teetering on the edge of insanity. The Spaniard pulls back to (swear at, beg of, most likely) ask his lover what in Hell he thinks he’s doing when he sees a figure staring at them from the shadowy corner leading back to the main part of the paddock.

Dani freezes.

His lover keeps moving, unaware of their voyeur. And it’s so good, and Dani so close, that even the horror of being seen doing this by someone he (begrudgingly) considers a younger brother can’t stop the electricity running up his spine as his body goes limp in Vale’s arms, his seed spilling between them. His body’s involuntary response drags Valentino over the edge moments later, and they sag against each other, catching their breath, except Dani is on the edge of hyperventilating now because he’s been caught in the act by his teammate and a wrong move by any of them could bring his entire career, his life’s passion crashing down around his ears.

Vale finally seems to realise something is off, and glances over his shoulder. He sees Marc, and the only sign of discomfort is the slight widening of his eyes.

Dani is struggling now, trying to disentangle their bodies. He is less than grateful in his attempts. His lover doesn’t seem to be bothered at all, but sets Dani back down on the ground and tucks himself away neatly. Far less calmly, Dani sorts himself out as best he can (flushed, panting, dirty from- _that’s his teammate watching, shut up now_ \- far from his stoic, collected image he projects to the world at large _and could this be any worse_ )- and fails epically when he tries to find something to say. His Spanish comes out garbled, profanity-ridden where it isn’t unintelligible, and Valentino quirks a grin, turning back to his lover.

Dani closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He feels Valentino draw him closer; the fallout from a grand revelation wouldn’t tarnish the Italian’s reputation like it would the Spaniard’s, but he still understands Dani’s fears on the subject.

Marc is gone when he reopens them, and Dani feels the fear crystallise in his chest where only a satiated afterglow should be resting.

-*-

Marc runs. He sees Dani open his eyes, sees him and Valentino finish, sees them see him. And he runs.

Third mistake.

He likes things in threes- fastest practice lap, pole position, race win- but this trio is inherently threatening, and Marc wonders whether the time has come to update his will.

Dani is going to kill him. Slowly. But still, he runs. He is confused and mortified, and the two do not an intelligent combination make.

-*-

Dani is suddenly aware that as hard as his teammate is to catch on the track, he is even harder to find off of it. Everywhere he looks, Marc is suspiciously absent or so busy it would be more suspicious to pull him aside for a minute.

Valentino is less than helpful- he believes in cures rather than preventions, and is only willing to deal with the fallout if there actually is one. Dani glares, calls him a bastard in Spanish and then Italian, just to cement the point, and leaves him to it.

Marc is finally alone five whole days after the fiasco. Dani has been waiting for the opportunity, and strikes like a rider with a championship riding on this overtake at the last corner.

(He begrudges, also, that this is a situation he has never really been subject to in MotoGP.)

“Have you told anyone?” He doesn’t pretend Marc won’t know what he’s talking about. There’s no gentle easing into the conversation; interrogation is perhaps a better word for the exchange he plans to occur.

His teammate straightens and glares. It is undermined by the fierce blush that confirms _yes, I know what you’re talking about._ “You’d know by now if I had.”

This, Dani concedes; if Marc had gone to anyone outside the close-knit Honda family with the news that Valentino Rossi was fucking one of its riders, it would make motoring news headlines within twenty four hours. This isn’t vanity talking (he admits the hypothetical situation would be more due to Vale’s fame, than his own).

“Why not?” He keeps his questions concise and neutral if only to stave off the request (entreaty) of _please, please don’t tell anyone._

Marc shifts awkwardly. Finally, he replies. “Not my news to tell,” he says, looking determinedly at the ground.

Dani eyes him a while longer, before nodding. “Good,” is all he says, before walking away. He considers the matter settled.

Marc slinks away in the other direction, trying and failing miserably not to feel like his brother has just asked him to keep his boyfriend a secret from their parents.

-*-

Valentino, for all he believes in cures, does not consider the matter settled. He gives it a few weeks, when things are just about normal again (and Dani has stopped holding out on sex). Then he tracks Marc down and disguises his intentions by faking a technical conversation until the two of them are out of earshot.

“Dani’s worried,” he says in Italian, knowing the Spanish rider would understand. “I’m sure you can work out why this concerns me.”

Marc sighs, because honestly, three weeks later he is done with the whole thing. Catching the two of them in the act is something he’s desperately repressing and has been largely successful at doing so, until one or the other decides to bring it up again. “You’d have heard by now if I’d said anything,” he replies, more or less sticking to the script he hashed out with Dani during their conversation.

“I’m more concerned with what you might say in the future,” Valentino edges around the true meaning beneath the words- _are you going to hold this over us?_

Marc snorts, but holds his tongue to stop the instinctive, mischievous retort of ‘what would you give me for my silence?’.

The Italian halts them both with a hand on Marc’s arm. “You’re an exciting racer, and on top of that, you’re a nice guy. I don’t want to find that liking misplaced.”

Marc doesn’t bother holding his tongue this time. “What do you expect me to do? Run away screaming about how you deflowered Honda’s golden boy? Demand recompense for my trauma at the threat of exposure?” He belatedly remembers that he did in fact run away (not screaming, for the record). But still- see older brother and hero figure above, and his reasoning, he felt, became apparent.

The aforementioned hero figure is silent, awaiting further response.

“Mother of God,” Marc mutters in an undertone. And Valentino has picked up at least that much Spanish, because he cracks a grin. “I was- I was mortified, alright? I did not in any way want to see- that- but I couldn’t move away because either one of you may have seen me trying to be unobtrusive.” He pauses, and sees the flaw in his argument. “Christ, it was like seeing my brother going at it, alright?” It was worse than seeing Alex going at it, Marc realises, because he’s seen his brother let loose in celebrations and has no doubts as to his sexual status anymore. But this is Dani Pedrosa and Valentino Rossi and he is in no way prepared to deal with this like he is to tease his little brother. “I was mortified and petrified and God shut me up now before I say-”

“You don’t care?” Valentino cuts in suddenly. Marc blinks, surprised at the question.

“Care about what?”

“That I was- how did you put it?- deflowering Honda’s golden boy.”

Golden boy’s teammate smirks at the Italian. “I’m a nineties kid, Vale.” He thinks about the invention of the internet, and how it warped his generation. “Two guys fucking is not, in and of itself, a shocking revelation.”

Slowly, it seems, Valentino gets it. Perhaps his falling out with Jorge years ago is still too fresh in his mind, but it honestly seems that he’s only just realised that teammates can like each other, and even care about each other.

Marc is not going to start a scandal under the name of Valentino Rossi, because the man is a hero to every motorcyclist who’s ever lived and exciting racer or not, Marc will not win that battle of wills. More importantly, he won’t do that to either man because off the adrenaline highs of the track, he is a decent person, and he will not reveal something they’re obviously keen to keep under wraps.

It’s not in him to advance himself at the expense of somebody else (off of the track). So he smiles, and thanks heaven that the only thing he has to question is his hero figure’s taste, and not how they will kill his manufacturers in revenge for- 

Shutting up. But seriously, Dani Pedrosa?

He realises he has spoken aloud when Valentino suddenly grins at him. “You heard him. Hell, you saw him,” the Italian drawls. “He’s a wildcat in bed.” With a wink, Valentino strolls away.

Marc is left shuddering, his mind screaming _Repress! Repress!_

-*-

Two months later, he is walking with Nakamoto-san when he hears Dani swearing faintly. Knowing what this likely means, he steers them away from the sound before the Japanese man realises what it is he is hearing.

-*-

One month after that, he talks Jorge out of congratulating Dani on his win personally, after he saw Valentino approach their fellow Spaniard and then leave with the race victor mere minutes later.

As affable as the Italian appeared, he doubted he would appreciate Jorge’s interpretation of ‘personal congratulation’.

-*-

Three months after that, he stumbles upon Cal Crutchlow and Jorge Lorenzo kissing heatedly behind the Tech 3 motorhome.

It is too much effort to be mortified, by now. He coughs loudly instead, and then smirks at Jorge’s stuttering and Cal’s casual slouch.

-*-

He _is_ still mortified when five weeks later, he’s caught kissing Pol at the back of the Moto2 racer’s garage.

Dani raises an eyebrow and looks like he’s gearing up for the big brother speech. Marc turns beseeching eyes on Valentino. The Italian laughs, but drags Dani off before the older Spaniard can start interrogating Pol as to his intentions.

-*-

Two days later, Valentino mutters in passing how they’re even. For diverting Dani Pedrosa, Marc personally thinks they’re a lot more than that, but he passes up the opportunity to appease his morals.

Some things are more important. Pol is lingering in the back of the MotoGP paddock, and Marc has the sudden desire to make himself scarce for the next few hours.

The two of them are probably the worst kept secret in the paddocks. With an internal grin, Marc realises that ‘the two of them’ could refer to any pair of three (that he alone knows of) . But still, it’s nobody else’s business if the paddock’s too blind to work it out for themselves.

He’s a decent person off of the track, after all. He keeps their secrets to himself, and they do the same for him.

And at this point in time, quite rightly, (secrets and all,) Marc Marquez feels that all is right with his world.  
 


End file.
